Does This Darkness Have a Name?
by Let Love In
Summary: Draco Malfoy has  barely  endured the worst summer of his life. As he struggles to contain his anger towards his father, he also attempts to stop himself from being harmful to others, namely his Head Girl counterpart. AU, 7th year, read inside for more.
1. This Cruelty?

_**Does This Darkness Have a Name?**_

**A/N: So this is a story that I'm resurrecting because I like the concept of it, but I don't like the way that I wrote it to begin with. I started it about three years ago and published it with no intention to finish it, I suppose. So now I'm rewriting it! This story is AU, and has nothing to do with the war or Voldemort. I know it's the typical, beaten-to-death "Hermione and Draco are Head Girl and Boy" story but it definitely has a twist and I hope you guys enjoy it.**

**I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. Also, the title is a One Tree Hill quote. Don't judge. Here's the full quote, if you're interested. I believe that it really fits in with Draco's story later on.**

**-**_Does this darkness have a name? This cruelty? This hatred? How did it find us? Did it steal into our lives or did we seek it out and embrace it? What happened to us? That we now send our children into the world like we send young men to war, hoping for their safe return, but knowing that some will be lost along the way. When did we lose our way? Consumed by the shadows, swallowed all by the darkness. Does this darkness have a name? Is it your name?_-

Hermione couldn't believe how far she had come. How had seven years passed by so quickly? She looked beside her at Ron, Harry and Ginny and she sighed a little, feeling a mixture of warmth and sadness in her heart. She knew that once they had finished their last year at Hogwarts that they would obviously still be best friends, but would they stay within close proximity? She knew Harry wanted to be an auror, and Ron had been talking about joining a professional Quidditch team somewhere down the line. And Ginny, of course, was staying one more year at Hogwarts.

But Hermione? She had felt such anxiety over these sorts of decisions. She loved everything about magic… how was she supposed to choose just one profession?

"What's up?" Ron asked her, squeezing her hand a little. "You look nervous."

"Not nervous," she replied. "Just… ready, I suppose."

Although vague, her answer seemed to make sense to Ron and Harry. They both nodded thoughtfully, watching as the train came into view. Their last year was to be the most fun, and yet they grew weary just thinking about it.

"Chin up," he told her with a lopsided grin. Hermione leaned in and promptly gave him a kiss on the cheek. His grin turned into a full-on beam when she pulled away.

"Save the PDA for when you're _not _around a family member, hm?" Ginny asked Ron, who shoved her in response. They both laughed in response. Hermione and Ron had been dating since the end of 6th year, but Ginny still playfully gave him a hard time about even the slightest bit of PDA.

The laughing slowly subsided as the train came to a full stop in front of the hopeful students. Hermione found herself smiling a bit as the doors churned open and exposed the innards of the train to the waiting children. She climbed in happily, Ron at her back, breathing in the familiar smell of the sweet snacks and newly furnished compartments.

The four students crammed themselves into the nearest compartment and sat down, placing their belongings next to them. Almost immediately, Hermione was standing back up and smoothing the creases from her robes.

"I'm going to keep my things here, if you guys don't mind," she told them, feeling rather nervous for the most important part of their long ride to Hogwarts. About a month ago, Hermione was greeted by a silvery, good-natured owl that arrived by her window. A large roll of parchment was attached to its talon, as well as a smaller envelope. Confused, Hermione untied the goodies and sent the owl off after a few loving pets to the back of its head.

As she unraveled the parchment, a large _pop _noise sounded off as confetti and sparkles exploded from the paper, along with the sound of people cheering. The confetti simply whirled within itself, disappearing with a smaller _pop _before it even reached the floor. The little intricacies of magic would never cease to amaze Hermione.

She scoured the paper hungrily.

_Miss Hermione Granger, you have shown us much courage, intelligence and strength over the past seven years. Being a prefect for the Gyrffindor household as well as receiving remarkable grades for numerous courses, the staff at Hogwarts would like to appoint you as Head Girl for the 2009-2010 school year. Congratulations on your amazing feat! We have no doubt that the students of Hogwarts will grow to love and respect you as the Head Girl of the academy._

The letter continued with a list of responsibilities, as well as Hermione's new living quarters and password.

_We are very excited to see what you can do for your students this year. _

_Wishing you the best,_

_Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout and Albus Dumbledore._

Inside the envelope was a shiny badge, enriched with maroon and gold highlights and etched with the words _Head Girl_.

And now here she was, standing in the corridor of the train as the last of the students clambered on and found a compartment.

Just a few compartments over, Draco Malfoy sat with his usual cronies. They were all laughing and punching each other in the sides, going on and on about some joke that Draco had missed out on.

Draco no longer felt alive after the summer he had endured. He no longer felt that holding his head high was obligatory, or even possible at this point. Looking up at his "friends" and wondered how they could laugh at something so menial, so incredibly _stupid _when he barely even felt his own sanity within him.

His thoughts were disturbing and maniacal and he couldn't even help it; he was trapped. He recapped the events that happened over summer and he winced uncontrollably. It was like reliving an embarrassing moment that you just want to be able to forget, but you can't. It keeps coming up in passing, causing you to turn pink and sheepishly stare down at your shoes as you relive that moment in your mind. It was almost exactly like that. Except for the embarrassing part.

Thinking about it definitely wasn't helping. He sighed and glanced down, looking at his Head Boy badge, and forgot completely that he had to do rounds. He groaned and stood, walking out the compartment door and slamming directly into Hermione Granger.

"Watch it, will you?" he asked coldly.

"Nice to see you too, Malfoy. What're you doing out of your compartment?" she retorted. He looked down at the badge on her robes.

"I suppose I'm doing the same thing as you, Granger," he sneered, looking her up and down. She was about to question his statement, but then noticed his Head Boy badge. She immediately went pale, wondering why this little detail wasn't included in her letter. Maybe she was so excited that she had skipped over it? That can't be, she scoured the letter over and over again every chance that she got. "Although I can't imagine why a mudblood would be allowed to hold such an prestigious title."

Maybe they didn't include it in the letter because they knew she would turn down the position if she knew about Draco being her male counterpart.

"You're the new Head Boy?" she asked, ignoring his dry comment. Although she probably should have seen it coming. Even if he was a lowly bastard to her and her friends, he was rather (annoyingly) studious.

"Who else did you expect? Your sad excuse for a boyfriend?" he asked, snorting at her. "If you haven't noticed, he's got the IQ of a fruit fly."

"Shove it, Malfoy," she muttered, while turning on one heel and walking down the thin passage. Unfortunately, he was right behind her, dragging his squeaky shoes against the floor. They made their way towards the last compartment on the right, the prefect compartment. In just a few minutes, all of the new prefects would be piling into the small cubicle and listening to the instructions that Draco and Hermione would explain.

It had been a very long train ride, one that Hermione would have loved to endure with anyone besides her arrogant male counterpart. For the rest of the night, he poked and prodded her with ridiculous comments that not only insulted her status as a witch, but her friends, her parents, her hair, the zit on her forehead, the smell of her perfume, and anything else he could possibly observe. Hermione was seething with anger by the time she finally caught up with Ron and Harry at the Great Hall.

"I can't stand that bugger," she told them as she picked apart her buttered biscuit and scattered in around her plate. Her anger had completely suppressed her appetite. Ron and Harry looked at her with sympathetic eyes. "I mean, honestly, the boy is _mental_. He hasn't stopped insulting me since the second we bumped into each other."

"What do you expect?" Ron asked her, forking a piece of meat into his mouth. "He is a Malfoy."

Draco ate silently with his cronies, his head filled to the top with neurotic thoughts. Meanwhile, Pansy Parkinson was busy scooting her chair closer and closer to his, calling him "Drakey" and asking him why he was being so quiet. He grunted and shrugged her off of his shoulder. Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini were too busy flinging biscuits at each other to notice his behavior, or the fact that he stood from his chair and stormed out of the Great Hall.

He picked his brain for the coordinates of his new dormitory, already horrified by the thought of having to share it with that Granger mutt. He remembered that the letter had instructed him to go "fifteen paces right of the alcove across from the Ravenclaw dormitories". He was to tap his wand against the wall, whisper the password and the door would appear.

Sure enough, there it was. The door was thick and wooden, with a gargoyle knocker that peered at him as he pushed his way inside. The common room was rather exquisite. Plushy blue chairs sat around the fireplace, with a shined wooden table standing in front of them. A bookcase sat tall in the corner of the large common room, looming over the rest of the furniture. Draco walked over to it, observing the multitude of books on its shelves. He pulled a couple out of their places and thumbed through them before heading towards what he believed to be his bedroom.

The room was donned with green and silver decorations, along with the Slytherin house crest hanging above his bed. Several dressers were provided for clothing and school supplies, along with a few picture frames that already contained photographs. One was of a beautiful landscape, with singing birds twirling around the sky. Another was a family portrait. Lucius and Narcissa stood tall and stern, both with one hand on either of Draco's shoulders. No one smiled.

He attempted to stop the shaking, but it overcame him anyway. His hands were barely controllable as he took the frame off of the wall and placed it face down on a dresser as calmly as he could. Without another thought, he flopped backwards onto his bed and resisted the urge to throw up, or worse, cry. After lying down for just a few minutes, he felt a little better. He had to. There was no way he could go about his day being a shaky, disgusting mess. What would people think?

After a few moments, he decided to go to the common room and get his trunk to unpack his belongings. He opened the door only to find Hermione sitting on a plush couch, reading.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here, Granger?" he sneered. She peered up at him from behind her book and glared.

"What do you mean? If you don't recall, I live h-"

"I was actually trying to forget that little detail. I mean, what're you doing here so early? The feast doesn't end for another half an hour," he replied, presenting her with his first civil sentence for her since they had bumped into each other on the train.

"I don't know," she replied. "I guess I'm just tired, and I wanted to see what the room looked like and if I could even find the place, and I wanted to get a head start on unpacking, and-"

"Shit, Granger, I wasn't asking for a speech," Draco said, while over-exaggerating a wince.

"Malfoy, you are such a bloody-"

"Prat? Git? Bastard? Wow, Granger, for a person who is constantly reading, one would think you'd have a larger vocabulary."

"Will you stop cutting me off?" she yelled, placing her book down on her lap. He shrugged. No matter how disappointed he was, he always had a good time riling her up. She groaned and slammed her book down on the table, walking to her room. Draco chuckled a bit before snatching up his luggage.

Hermione flopped on her bed and groaned angrily. There was nothing worse than sharing her corridors with Draco Malfoy. Well, of course, besides sharing a _room _with the whiny loser. At least she was safe in the confines of her own corridors. She felt at home with her maroon and gold decorations, as well as pictures of her friends and family.

Soon, she had completely forgotten about her run-in with Draco, and was slowly falling into a daze. Only the sounds of Draco's bedroom door opening and shutting kept her awake, if only for a few moments before she slipped away into a dreamless sleep.

Draco had picked up the habit of pacing over the summer. He had no idea why, it didn't even really calm his anxiety, but he felt the need to do it. He felt productive if he walked around, if only for a little bit. At least now he had an excuse. He organized his room for a few hours, working on several things before heading to the bathroom. He meticulously shaved his face before setting up his toiletries on his side of the sink. Then to the common room he went, where he draped his robes over one plush chair.

And then he sat there. The moon shined brightly through the sole window next to the bookcase, illuminating the room if only for a few hours. His heart raced as he looked down at his calloused, scraped hands. He had spent hours over the summer, sitting there and picking at his blisters until the whole layer of skin was gone. Another habit he picked up next to pacing, a more destructive one. But somehow the soft _pick, pick _noise of his fingernails against the skin of his hand made his heart slow down, if only for a few minutes.

And so he picked, until he was tired. And even then, he could barely sleep when he sunk into his billowy, green comforter.

Unfortunately, Draco woke up at around 4:30 AM the next morning. _Shit, _he thought. Getting back to sleep was almost as hard as getting tired in the first place. Sleep was the one escape he had when he was at home, and that was the sole reason it was so hard to come by.

Sighing, he got up and stretched, before draping a robe around his bare chest and boxers. He walked out to the common room and lit the fireplace, stoking the charred logs every few minutes. He stared into the flames for a long time, feeling his eyes burn with every moment that passed. To tell the truth, he felt very lucky to be here. Even if he was surrounded by idiots and Hermione, it was a hell of a lot better then home. _Home? _he thought to himself. _I couldn't really call it that, now can I?_

Soon, he saw the sun start to seep in through the window. Sighing, he doused the fire and went back to his room, unsure if he could possibly be ready for the day ahead of him.

**A/N: I know, not very eventful. But I'll get to the better parts! I hope you guys enjoyed. Let me know what you think, and possibly what you think has happened to Draco! I love to hear your theories! **


	2. This Hatred?

Chapter Two

A/N: I hope this chapter is bit more eventful. Please review! I don't own HP or any characters.

Hermione woke to the sound of the shower running. She lazily looked down at her watch. _5 o'clock? _She groaned and sat up, her hair sticking out in every which way possible. She placed her feet on the cool carpet and draped a robe around her shoulders before exiting her room and placing her ear against the bathroom door. She could hear Draco humming aimlessly to himself.

"Draco Malfoy, I'd like to know what has caused you to get in the shower so early!" she shouted through the door.

"Go away, will you? Can't I shower in peace?" he retorted angrily.

"Not when the shower is loud enough to wake me up!" she sighed half-heartedly, not even sure if he heard her. What was the point, anyway? These arguments were never winnable. She went back into her room and slipped on some comfortable clothes before grabbing her robes. Afterwards, she headed into the common room and fell down onto the comfy couch with one of the books from the bookcase. A few minutes later, Draco emerged from the shower with a sleek, white robe around him; steam followed him out the door and evaporated as soon as it touched the cool air.

"Do you ever stop reading?" he shot.

"Nope," she replied with an air of arrogance. She could tell he was angry at her lack of response, for he muttered a few foul words before he left the room.

Groaning in exasperation, he peeled off the robe and slipped into a shirt and a pair of pants. _Why does she have to read in the common room, _he asked himself. _She has her own room for a reason. Maybe then I wouldn't have to see her all the time_.

He sulkily made it out of his room and sat down across from Hermione, grabbing the robes that he had draped over the chair just the night before. The loaded silence was killing Hermione, and she felt Draco's eyes on her.

"Do you mind?" she asked, as she closed her book and set it down on the shiny table. He was about to retort when they both noticed something that each of them could have swore wasn't there before. A slightly rolled piece of parchment rested on the table in front of them, with the familiar swirly handwriting of none other than Professor Dumbledore.

_Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger,_

_I trust that the both of you have enjoyed your new dormitory. I will be needing you to come to my office during lunch this afternoon to discuss events for this year at Hogwarts._

_Best,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore _

The two stared at the paper for a moment longer; Hermione was wondering what could possibly be discussed at this meeting, while Draco pondered why Dumbledore signed every paper with his mouthful of a name.

"Well, I'm going to go eat breakfast," Hermione concluded, gathering her things. Draco merely snorted in response as he watched her huff out the door.

Breakfast was the same as Draco had always remembered. Everyone around him shoved as much food in their mouth as they possibly could, spewing out a few crumbs every time they attempted to talk to one another. It was a rather disgusting spectacle. Pansy, of course, was glued to his side as she twirled her hair in one finger and asked him why he had left so abruptly last night.

"Draco, is it something I said?" Pansy asked in a nasally tone, placing a hand on his arm. Draco shrugged her hand away and stood up, leaving to go to his first class. _Potions,_ he thought, _wonderful. _He walked slowly to the classroom and sat down, soon accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle once again. More kids filed in the room within the next few minutes, including Ron, Harry, Hermione and a few other Gryffindors. Soon, Snape came storming into the classroom, his black robes billowing like storm clouds behind him.

"I suspect you all have the correct materials pertaining to this class," Snape began, without any sort of 'hello' or 'good morning'. "The textbook entitled "Learning and Mastering Advanced Potions and Methods", your own rolls of parchment and quills, your cauldron, and an assortment of vials for practice." He plucked each syllable with extra lip as he stared down each student.

"For the first four weeks of class, we will be studying, creating, recreating and mastering an assortment of advanced potions, each to be found in your books. I will assign you each a partner, and _no_, you may not request a switch." Hermione groaned. Partner work was never something she looked forward to, mostly because every partner she had ever worked with took advantage of her studious habits.

Snape called out the pairs of names monotonously, not bothering to watch the horrified or pleased reactions from the partnerships.

"Granger, you will be with Mister Weasley." Hermione and Ron looked at each other and smiled wide. "Oh, no, that can't be right," Snape said, obviously not very pleased with the looks on their faces. Taking his quill and making a few rushed marks on his parchment, he continued. "Granger, you will be with Malfoy. Weasley, with Finnigan."

Hermione tried her hardest to keep her jaw from dropping. Never mind the fact that Snape obviously disliked her and Ron, but to switch him with Draco? They already had to _live _together, for crying out loud. She looked over at Draco, who seemed to have mixed feelings about this partnership. Obviously he was angry that he had to spend more time with her, but that just meant he had more time to pick on her.

"I advise you to write this all down," Snape said after listing off the rest of the names. He began to go into detail about each of the potions they would be working on. "I suggest that you all read the descriptions in your book, along with the procedures. We will be starting on our first potion today, Promptus Potion, for the rest of the time period. Use this time wisely."

With that, Hermione flipped open her book and thumbed through the pages until she landed upon a chapter entitled "Promptus Potion: Guide to Sighting the Invisible World". Draco grudgingly flopped down next to her at the table.

"Okay, how about you go get the first half of these ingredients, and I'll get the ones that would be in the closet," Hermione compromised.

"How about… you get all of it while I read the directions," Draco replied, rolling his eyes at her.

"No," she said defiantly, crossing her arms with a huff. But after waiting a few minutes for Draco to change his mind, she sighed heavily and stood from her chair to gather the ingredients. She attempted to ignore the sound of his chuckling.

"Frozen ashwinder eggs," she muttered to herself as she sifted through a cabinet infested with about five other students. She dragged her fingers across a few glass jars before finding a couple correctly labeled ones. Plucking one from the cabinet, she continued to grab a remainder of the ingredients before heading back to the table and clunking them down.

"Here," she grunted. Draco shrugged.

"It says to add three drops of bubotuber pus while stirring counterclockwise three times, clockwise four times, and counterclockwise once more," Draco said as he sifted through the jars. "You do the drops, I do the stirring."

"Whatever," she obliged. The first few steps of the recipe went by without incident, surprisingly. But Hermione's theory of "the calm before the storm" was almost always right.

"Okay, two sliced caterpillars… Oh! I forgot to grab those." Hurriedly, she stepped around the cauldron, accidentally bumping the side of it with her elbow. Some of the contents splashed onto Draco's robes.

"Look what you did, you stupid mudblood!" he fumed, swatting at the wet patch on his robes. "What if this burns my skin?"

"It's not going to burn your skin, you idiot," she retorted. "And it was an accident!"

"Yeah, accident my ass!" he yelled a little louder. "We're going to have to start over now, thanks to your idiotic mistake."

"Granger, Malfoy, stop bickering or I'll have you both in detention," Snape demanded from across the room. The two immediately stopped shouting, but glared into each other's eyes, both of their nostrils flaring.

"Look what you almost got us into," Draco said in a hushed tone.

"Oh, shove it," she growled. "We only did the first few steps, and we aren't even the only ones who have to start over already. Look and Seamus and Ron's cauldron."

Sure enough, the two boys were struggling to keep the foam in their cauldron from bubbling onto the floor. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Don't compare me to those bumbling buffoons," he snorted. "This 'accident' was all your fault, so you can do the first steps again, _alone._"

Hermione glared at him, expecting a smug smirk in return. But something was different… his light gray eyes grew dark and cloudy, and his angered frown stayed statuesque in its place.

The rest of the class went by without much incident, other than the occasional muttered bickering and foul words. Soon, the class was dismissed and the two bolted out of the classroom as quick as they possibly could. That afternoon, they walked separately to Dumbledore's office, and spent the whole lunch discussing the upcoming balls, Quidditch matches, and other such events. All the while, Draco was glaring menacingly at Hermione.

That heated argument in the morning set the stage for the drag that the rest of the day would be. The teachers were jumping right into the homework, projects and exam preparation for the year. Both Hermione and Draco had a Transfiguration essay and a Defense Against the Dark Arts project already assigned, and they were to study for Potions class on top of that. Sighing, Hermione finally made it into their common room and headed for the bookcase to grab the book she had gotten into that morning. She whirled around when the door to the common room opened to reveal Draco, who was seething with anger.

"I need to get these robes off," he sneered, pointing at the large black spot on his robes. "It smells disgusting and you were _wrong_, this stupid potion is burning my skin!"

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy! It's not that big of a deal. Stop being such a girl, the damned potion wasn't poisonous," she complained. He began to walk towards her as she spoke.

"It may as well have been. Your _dirty mudblood hands_ touched the ingredients inside, didn't they?" he said menacingly, emphasizing each word with more rage than the next. That did it; she reeled her palm back and slapped him across the cheek.

"You bastard," she growled. He stood there, stunned.

"Don't you touch me again, you filthy mutt!" he said, shoving her against the bookcase. A few books came toppling downward onto them but they were both so angry that they hardly noticed. She grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back, sending him careening towards the wooden table. For a moment, a look of shock came across his face as he caught himself, and his expression was quickly exchanged with one of pure fury.

"Oh, you're going to pay for that," he said, reaching out for her shoulders again, but she ducked frantically and began to run towards her room, when he grabbed her arms from behind.

"Stop!" she shouted as he spun her around. Her eyes were squeezed shut as his hands clasped around both of her bony wrists. Her breath was coming in tight, constricted puffs as she squirmed in his grasp. That's when he realized his own hands were shaking violently. He let her go, watching as the imprint of his fingers on her wrist faded from white to red. Shaking her head, she ran back to her room and slammed the door before sinking down onto the floor. _What just happened?_

Draco stood in the same spot, motionless. That white-hot rage had literally came out of nowhere, and truthfully he was rather afraid of what he could have done to scrawny little Hermione. Shivering, he tiptoed to the bathroom and shut the door quietly. He ran his hands through his hair and let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding in. The sting that Hermione left on his cheek was nothing compared to the overwhelming fear he felt inside of him.

Staring up into the mirror, he grimaced at how much he was beginning to look like his father.

**A/N: I hope this chapter was a bit more eventful. Let me know what you think!**


	3. How Did it Find Us?

Chapter 3

A/N: Hey everyone, thanks to those who reviewed. This chapter kind of gives an insight to Draco's behavior. Hope you like it!

Hermione stood slowly from her crumbled position on the floor, still stunned from the events that had just happened. The finger marks on her arm were just beginning to disappear as she heard a few crashes from the room next door. Careful not to make a noise, she tiptoed out of her room and stood outside of Draco's, listening to his muffled grunts and reckless rummaging. After a few moments, she heard a strange _crunch_ noise that caused her to back away from the door.

Hurriedly, she gathered a coat and her Potions textbook before leaving the common room. She walked to the library, looking forward to some alone time, when she spotted Harry and Ron in a far away corner, conversing idly and staring at their textbooks without a thought in their brains. Maybe a little tutoring would get her mind off of her evening.

"Hey, Ron, Harry!" she called to them, smiling as best as she could. They looked in her direction and waved her over to their table. She pulled out a chair and sat, examining their books to see what class they were studying for. The chapter on the Promptus Potion was laid out in front of them.

"I came to study for Potions, too," she said happily. Ron and Harry gave her looks of confusion, wondering why anyone could be happy about studying for such a dreadful class. Yawning, Ron pushed their books to the side and clasped his hands behind his head, leaning back in his chair.

"How come you weren't at lunch today?" Ron asked.

"We had a Head meeting with Dumbledore in his office," she replied, feeling sick to her stomach by referring to her and Draco as 'we'.

"Oh, cool," Harry replied, adjusting his glasses. "And how is that git, Malfoy?"

Hermione blanched, before regaining composure and replying, "Let's just say I'm having some trouble… "adjusting" to my new living arrangements." Harry and Ron laughed simultaneously.

"So I'm guessing nothing has changed, huh?" Ron questioned.

"Well, you know how he is," Hermione replied, attempting to ignore the wave of uneasiness that came upon her. Unfortunately, she felt rather on edge for the rest of the conversation.

Draco Malfoy sat on the floor of his room, his head buried in his hands. He was lost, angry, incredibly saddened, and he had no idea how he could make everything right again. Slowly looking up from behind his clammy hands, he observed the damage done to his room.

Trinkets and papers had fluttered to the ground in the wake of his uncontrollable anger. A few broken pieces of a picture frame were scattered around his feet. He sighed and picked up a sliver of glass, pressing it between his fingers and dropping it when it drew a little bit of blood. Sucking on his finger, he closed his eyes and rested his head on the wall behind him, unsure of where to go next.

Draco had always believed that his sole purpose in life was to impress his father. This wasn't an instinct he was born with, no, but it was instilled in him practically from the day he learned to walk. He literally breathed to astound his father with everything that he could do. It was a constant quest for acceptance. But it seemed that nothing he did would illicit a pat on the back, or even a slight nod of approval. Lucius never even seemed to notice Draco, and treated him much more like a pesky creature than a son.

Summer had just began, and despite Draco's hard work over the past school year, Lucius didn't say a word. His mother, however, hugged him and kissed his cheek happily, praising him and telling him how proud she was. She even hinted that his father neglected to receive such wonderful marks, and winked at him as they laughed at the thought. Impressing his mother was easy, though. She was proud of everything he did.

A few weeks into summer, Draco was home alone, sitting in his room and staring at the ceiling. He had slept in rather late, and both of his parents were out; his father was at work and his mother had been running errands. Draco wasted the day away, watching the telly, ransacking the refrigerator and generally being a lazy teenager. At around 4:30 in the afternoon, he was beginning to wonder where everyone was. Lucius always ordered dinner to be ready at exactly five, thus he would usually return at around four. And his mother had left quite early in the morning, why hadn't she returned yet?

His thoughts were interrupted by a stern knock on the door. Draco hopped off the couch and padded his way towards the large front door. He opened it and stared into the face of a stout, pudgy man with bulging eyes and a rather large, protruding lower lip. He held a small cane in his two blubbery hands, and he looked rather serious. _Business_, Draco thought.

"My father isn't home," Draco told the man as he began to close the door. "You're going to have to come back later."

The man struck his cane into the doorway, wedging it open a few inches. "Mister Malfoy, sir, I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Draco took his hand off the door and allowed the plump man to enter. He immediately turned cold when the man looked down at the floor and took off his hat. "What is it?" he asked frantically.

"I am the manager and owner of the Pollington Train Station here in Wiltshire. I'm very sorry to tell you, that…" he stopped for a moment, staring up from the floor to Draco. "There has been a terrible accident."

Draco could feel his own heart begin to beat faster with every moment that passed. His brow furrowed, and one of his clammy hands found its way up to his neck, where he rubbed his throat uncomfortably. The lump that had formed there was thick and refused to subside. The stout man seemed to be trying to find the right words.

"There was a, um… collision," he said shakily. "Narcissa Malfoy was a passenger on the train. She, well, she didn't make it. I'm so very, very sorry, sir."

Draco stood motionless, a thin film of tears covering his eyes. He shook his head a little bit, unable to move any other part of his body. The man was silent as he reached up and plopped his hat back onto his head.

He barely noticed the man had left by the time he looked back up. The house was empty. He forced his wobbly legs to move in the direction of his bedroom, not stopping for anything. He heard the front door fling open just moments later, along with a few crashes and bangs. Was Draco imagining it? He had no idea; he couldn't even gauge how much time had passed since the man had left.

Draco cautiously left his room and walked towards the dining room, observing several stacks of books scattered on the floor, a broken vase and a large chair on its side. Before he could retreat to his room, the familiar dinner bell sounded from the house elves in the kitchen. Frightened and still living in a dream-like state, he made his way to the kitchen and sat down in his usual spot, unsure as to why he hadn't broken down yet.

His mother was gone. Dead. He couldn't even grasp the concept, couldn't even think those words in his head without dismissing it. There was no way it was true. Absolutely no way.

And yet, Lucius stormed into the dining room and sat down, staring only briefly at the chair that would normally seat Narcissa. The rims of his eyes were red and his thin, sneering lips quivered as he shoveled food into his mouth. All the while, Draco stared blankly at the ghost white tablecloth, wishing that he were back up in his own room. They didn't speak. The only sound was the clinking of forks to their plates. Halfway through the meal, one of their petite house elves, Podey, stepped up to Lucius, holding out a wine bottle, shaking rather violently. His elbow bones protruded out of his skin as he lifted the wine bottle up to the table.

"M-More wine, sir?" he asked, his voice unstable and high-pitched. Lucius merely grunted in response, holding out his wine glass. The little elf poured the wine carefully, standing on the tips of his bony toes. Wobbling a bit, the wine bottle hit the glass with a _clink _before it fell to the floor, pouring the rest of the contents on the white carpet. Draco watched as Lucius' upper lip curved with each _glug _of wine that poured out.

"You stupid elf," Lucius whispered harshly, smacking the elf upside the head as he bent to pick up the bottle. He fell face first into the puddle of wine, before he scrambled back onto his feet. His eyes grew wide with tears as he ran out of the dining room and into the kitchen. Draco tried hard not to flinch. He knew Lucius was a rather angry individual, but he had never witnessed anything like that.

"May I be excused," Draco mumbled without waiting for an answer, already standing from the table.

"Sit down!" Lucius bellowed, causing Draco to jump a bit. He hurriedly planted himself back in the seat and continued to eat the morsels of food left on his plate. Lucius simply stared into space, not acknowledging his son or anything else happening around him. Finally, Lucius stood with Draco following in suit. They both retreated to their rooms, not daring speak a word. This went on for the next month of summer. They never spoke of Narcissa. Ever. Lucius continued to smack and hit the house elves regularly, and yell at Draco all the time. He spent most of his time in his room, trying to dodge his father. He could barely stand anyone anymore. He was alone.

As summer was down to the last month, things started to get even worse, if that was possible. Draco began to act like a house elf to his own father. It was the most shameful experience he had ever experienced.

It was a Sunday, laundry day for the house elves. They were bustling about the hallways, carrying large baskets of clothing, towels and sheets. Draco observed Podey, the tiny elf, as he struggled with carrying a huge basket of black towels. His legs nervously shook as he walked slowly down the corridor, the other elves bustling quickly past him. Normally, Draco wouldn't have been very interested in the journeys of a house elf, but Podey was blocking the narrow corridor and stumbling all over himself, preventing Draco from locking himself in his room.

"Give that to me," Draco said begrudgingly, yanking the basket out of Podey's hands. Quickly he walked down the hallway and into the laundry room, where Lucius stood. His back was turned as he stared down a shaking elf, who looked rather battered. He muttered some foul words under his breath before turning around and bumping right into Draco.

"What do you think you're doing?" he seethed, looking from Draco, to Podey, and then back to his son, who he snarled at. "You're pathetic, helping that idiotic elf."

Draco was rather taken aback at the disdain in his father's voice. Lucius slowly looked down at the shivering elf. "And _you_… You don't know how to do anything, do you?" he asked, getting in the little house elf's face. Podey didn't say a word. Lucius muttered, "Worthless."

Without warning, he reeled his hand back, preparing to smack the elf senseless. All of the other house elves in the laundry room stopped and stared at the scene unfolding.

"Stop!" Draco shouted, unsure of where his voice suddenly came from. That was practically the first word he had said to his father since that fateful day, and he had no idea why he even said it. Lucius turned around slowly, giving his son a look of disbelief.

"What did you say?" he asked deliberately. Draco shook his head but didn't say anything. The next thing he knew, he was being lifted into the air by his forearms. His father's hands were shaking as he stared into Draco's eyes, not an ounce of pity or empathy behind them. And then he flung him onto the ground, leaving him a limp mass on the floor.

"You are a coward," he said through clenched teeth, looking down at his son. Draco had never felt humiliation worse than this. The squiggly veins in Lucius's forehead bulged as he continued, getting more and more heated with each syllable. "You are a coward, and an idiot, and I feel _ashamed _to call you my son! _Get up!_"

The words stung worse than the physical pain. For the first time in a long time, Draco thought of his mother Narcissa, and of how much he missed her. The past month had been a blur, yes, but it almost seemed unrealistic. Dream-like. But now it was all too true as he stared up at the dark eyes of his father.

He stood on unstable feet and smoothed the creases in his shirt, before looking back at Lucius. "I… I'm sorry, father."

Lucius pushed Draco out of the way and stormed towards the door as he mumbled, "Get out of my sight. And kill that useless piece of trash." Draco widened his eyes and looked at Podey, shaking in his rags and muttering "no".

"What?" Draco asked.

"I said kill him," Lucius seethed while looking at Podey. "Snap his neck." Draco couldn't believe his ears.

"I-I…"

"Do it!" Lucius screamed. "Or it'll be _your _neck!"

Frightened out of his mind, Draco slowly stepped towards the elf, who could barely move. Tears rolling down his cheeks, his large head shook violently.

"No, master, please don't!" Podey whispered. "You can't do this sir, please!"

Draco squeezed his eyes shut as he took Podey's bald head in his hands. The feel of the tiny elf's skin beneath his fingers made him sick to his stomach. All he wanted was to break into a sprint, but he knew his father would catch him in a second.

"Master Malfoy, please," the elf begged him; his breathing had become hysterical. "You can't, _you can't_, please, sir-"

_Snap_. Draco couldn't believe that one simple jerk of his hands could end the life of little Podey. The house elves all stopped what they were doing and stared at their fellow comrade.

"There's nothing to see here. Go!" Lucius roared. Draco could still feel the elf's skin under his palms, so he let Podey go limp on the floor before running back to his room and slamming the door.

Draco couldn't sleep. Not just that night, but every night. And not because he wasn't tired, either. He was tired all the time. But he always had these dreams that would haunt him and cause him to bolt upright in a damp sweat, crying and shaking violently. He dreamt of Podey, showing up in his room and simply staring at him. Or he dreamt of his father throwing him to the floor, or his mother on that damned train. He couldn't stop his mind from running wild every time his eyes closed.

The rest of the summer passed by painfully slow, until it finally couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts. It was all he had, now that his pride and dignity had all vanished out the window.

A/N: I hope this makes more sense as to why Draco is being such an ass! I tried to tone it down as much as I could with the killing scene. Hope you guys enjoyed.


	4. Did We Seek it Out, and Embrace it?

Chapter 4

**A/N: Yay for a new chapter. I hope the last one wasn't too confusing! Anyways, I don't own HP or any characters.**

Draco could still hear the echo of his father's cruel words in his mind as he opened the door to his room and knocked on Hermione's. He knew it wasn't his style to apologize, but he figured that he could just get this over with and ignore the brat for the rest of the year, just to get the shame off of his back. No one answered the door, though, so Draco walked right in. And Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Confused, he backed out of the doorway and went into the common room, expecting to see her reading. But she wasn't there, either. She wasn't even in the bathroom. Draco sulkily walked backed to his room, thinking that he must've scared her off. He didn't like her or anything, but he didn't want her to think that he was that kind of person. Just because he was mean didn't mean that he was violent. So he got in his room and flopped on the bed, attempting to stop thinking long enough to fall asleep.

Hermione tiptoed back into the common room at around 12 in the morning, practically falling asleep as she walked. She rushed to her room and threw herself on her lofty bed, sighing. She knew she would have to face Draco tomorrow in Potions class, but she pushed that thought out of her mind. Maybe if she just didn't look at or acknowledge him, it wouldn't be so bad. With that thought, she fell into a deep sleep.

The next week or so went by as follows. Draco and Hermione ignored and avoided each other every day, unless they were in Potions class. But even then, Hermione kept her plan of refusing to acknowledge him. Awkward silences were often experienced when they were alone, and it was killing both of them. Hurling insults at each other was much better than the silence.

It was a cold, dewy morning when Hermione finally spoke to Draco. She was in the bathroom, brushing at her teeth, and he was propped up on the windowsill, looking at the gloomy sky and wet grass below him. It was a foggy day, and he could barely see the horizon like he usually could. Unexpectedly, a gray owl gracefully swooped from the sky and landed on the windowsill with a note attached to its sharp talon. Draco carefully unwrapped the small piece of parchment from the owl and fed it a snack before watching it flit its wings and propel into the air. Draco warily uncurled the piece of parchment and read his own father's scratchy handwriting on the paper.

_Draco,_

_I have been in contact with your teachers. They tell me you've been slacking in school. We will discuss this come Christmastime. _

"How straightforward of him," Draco muttered silently. It was true, though. He had been slacking because of everything on his mind the past week. It was eating at him constantly, and he didn't feel the need to study hard anymore. What was the point? Once he got back home, his father would probably put him in grubby rags and make him clean the floor along with the other house elves. Just another slave.

"What's that?" a muffled voice asked from behind him. He spun around to see Hermione, a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth with white foam almost dripping out of her mouth. _Gross, _he thought. Before he answered, he crumpled the sheet up and threw it to the floor, pushing past her.

"None of your business," he said, as he sauntered to his room and shut the door. Hermione suspiciously picked up the crumpled parchment and opened it up, reading its contents with some difficulty. She wasn't sure exactly who it was from because it wasn't signed, so it could have been either his father or his mother. Confused, she shoved the note into her robes and watched as Draco stormed past the common room and out the door in a huff.

Shrugging, Hermione headed for her own room to start getting ready for the day. She had promised Ron and Harry that she would meet them in the Great Hall for lunch and then hit the books for Defense Against the Dark Arts. But as she pushed the door open to her room, she noticed that Draco's was slightly ajar.

"I can't," she thought aloud. And yet, she stood in the hallway for quite a few moments. She could just barely see the green and silver lining of his bed and the Slytherin crest above it. Her devious instincts got the best of her. Damn that Harry Potter. Ever since their first year she had become more and more wily and deceitful.

Slowly, she tip-toed towards the door and pushed it open an inch, and then another, and then another.

Surprisingly, his room was as neat as hers. Everything was in impeccable order, and his robes and other articles of clothing were folded neatly on his bed, or hung in his closet. After admiring his precision, Hermione noticed a picture frame that was face down on his dresser. She picked it up, only to find a multitude of glass shards underneath it. _He must have broken it that night_, she thought, as she remembered hearing him rummaging and ransacking his room.

It was a picture of his family. Well, his immediate family. They looked so… _solemn_, more so than usual. Placing the eerie picture back down on the dresser, she turned around to see a small set of drawers with some books on top. Textbooks, to be exact, and a few rolls of parchment. Next to them, however, was a gold-paged journal. Her eyes lit up guiltily.

_A journal, _she thought to herself. Carefully, she opened up the cover to a blank page, seeing _D.M. _written neatly in cursive on the bottom-right corner. She flipped the page and saw neat handwriting on the cream colored pages.

_Mother tells me to keep a journal. I'm not exactly sure why, but she said when I grew old I would want to be able to recall my "golden" teenage years. Whatever, here it goes. Today is the first day of summer, right before my last year at Hogwarts. I'm excited, because I have applied for Head Boy this year. I know I'm a shoe-in, because, well, it's not like any of the other dim-witted boys could win the position. I honestly wonder why they even try._

Hermione stopped reading enough to roll her eyes at his nasty comments. She flipped over the next few pages, reading about how Draco's summer had started off nicely. She practically yawned at the inside, still skimming the pages. Finally, she stopped at a page with nothing but scribbles on it. Well, obviously there had been some words written beneath them, but they were etched out so meticulously that there was no way one would be able to read it.

Hermione, clearly confused, was preparing to stop snooping, but couldn't resist. She turned the next page, hoping to find some explanation, but was interrupted by the door opening.

"Granger?" Draco shouted frantically. Hermione whirled around to see a beet-red Draco coming straight for her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he shouted, yanking the journal out of her hands. She stood there, stunned, unsure of how to react. She figured that when he left, he'd be gone for at least a half hour. "Well?"

"I, um, I'll leave now," she said, making her way for the door. Blocking the exit, he pointed a bony finger at her chest.

"Don't you _fucking _look through my stuff," he said through clenched teeth.

"I… I'm sorry," she squeaked, attempting to maneuver her way around him. But her apology seemed to make him angrier.

"_Sorry_?" he replied incredulously. "You're not allowed to be sorry, Granger. Sorry is for mistakes. You deliberately came into my room and _snooped _through my journal!"

Without warning, he smacked her hard with the back of his hand. She howled in pain, grabbing the side of her face with her hand. His bony knuckles had struck her cheekbone, and it began to throb almost instantly. Tears soon welled up in her eyes and fell down her cheeks. Draco felt a small pang in his heart, but he ignored it. _She's lucky I didn't punch her straight in her buck teeth_, he thought.

"You look through my stuff again, and I swear you won't live to spill it to your brainless friends. Now get out of my sight!" he seethed.

"Don't," she mumbled, her voice hoarse and coated with anger. Pausing for a moment to gain her tone back, she continued, "_ever _touch me again."

And with that, she pushed her way out of his room and the common room, grabbing her things along the way. She didn't care that she was clad in some old khaki shorts and the t-shirt she slept in. She needed to get out, and quickly.

As soon as she was outside, she fell backwards against the stone wall, breathing hard. She touched her wet, throbbing cheek, wincing as she felt a bruise coming on. She hardly even noticed that she was crying until the tears off of her face carefully, she made sure not to graze the growing bruise on her cheekbone. Finally, after gaining her composure, she walked down to the Great Hall for lunch, even if it was already halfway done. When she got there, she hurriedly ran to the Gryffindor table, sitting by Ron and across from Harry.

"Hey, where were you?" Ron asked worriedly, catching a glance at the red spot on Hermione's cheekbone. "And what's up with your face?"

She glared at him a little, hiding her embarrassment. "And what do you mean by that?" she asked.

"I mean," Ron began, suddenly aware of his mistake. "What's that?"

He pointed to the spot on her cheek. Hermione stiffened, unsure of how noticeable it was. She hadn't bothered to check in a mirror before she got there, but judging on the impact of the blow it was probably slightly red by now.

"What's what?" she replied, attempting to play dumb so that they would just drop the subject.

"This," Ron told her, placing his pointer finger lightly on the bruise. It took everything in her not to wince and back away.

"That must be my rouge," she replied coolly. Harry and Ron gave her puzzled looks. Probably because she wasn't even wearing any makeup. "I mean, I tried using a makeup spell for the first time today. It didn't really work out so I washed it all off… must have missed a spot." _Great save_, she thought to herself.

"They have makeup spells?" Harry asked, his mouth full with a pumpkin roll. Hermione nodded eagerly.

"Yeah," she said matter-of-factly. "I guess it's more of a girl thing."

Ron and Harry exchanged shrugs. "Here," Ron said, lifting his thumb to his mouth and licking it before bring it to her cheek. "I'll get it."

Hermione could barely fight back tears as he attempted to wipe the "makeup" off. "It's not coming off," he told her.

"I'll get it myself," she said quietly as she stood from the table and rushed to the nearest bathroom. Ron turned to Harry and shrugged.

"What's up with her?"

**A/N: Sorry for the shorter, sloppier chapter! I hope you guys enjoyed!**


	5. What Happened to Us?

**A/N: Here's an update! I've honestly been working very hard on this story and I hope that you guys are enjoying it. Let me know what you think so far, it's hard to continue when I don't have criticism to go off of. But thank you to those who flagged this story as an alert or favorite, you guys are awesome. Thank you. **

Hermione burst into the nearest bathroom and stood in front of one of the gigantic mirrors, examining her face. There was just a small spot on her cheekbone that had turned an odd shade of maroon. She sniffled and wiped her face, not even noticing that she ruptured into tears on the way to the bathroom.

Carefully, she reached up to brush her finger over the bruise, wincing a little as she did so. It was tender, and even blinking made it hurt a little. Cursing herself for not covering it up before she left, she mustered up some courage before striding back to the table and gathering her belongings. She was not going to let this get to her.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, concerned. Hermione blew a strand of hair out of her face before turning to him and smiling convincingly.

"I'm fine," she replied politely, looking over at Ron. He stared at her fearfully. "I forgot about the summary due in Potions, I should probably start that. I'll see you two later."

"Are you sure everything is fine?" Ron inquired further, even as Hermione had already turned around to walk away.

"Yes, Ron. I'm perfectly okay." This time, her tone was a little more demanding. Ron looked a little surprised at her sudden pitch, but he dropped it. They grew silent for a bit; the tension in the air was thick as mud. "Anyway… I'll see you."

She didn't wait for a response. Walking fast, she headed towards her dormitory, eager to sit down and take a breather from everything. She prayed that her male counterpart was somewhere else.

Meanwhile, Draco was lounging around in the common room. Having skipped breakfast, he was feeling rather sick, but he had so much on his mind that he couldn't deal with his cronies today, or Pansy. Truthfully, he didn't even feel that hungry, anyway.

_What does that stupid Mudblood think she's doing_, he thought to himself, _looking through my personal stuff like that_? He had been sitting in a lofty chair in the common room for the past ten minutes, restlessly tapping his fingers upon the plush armrest. Angrily, he stood and walked around, passing the crackling fire in the fireplace and the snow covered window on the other side of the room. His mind was reeling with unsolvable thoughts. What did she read, exactly?

"The nerve of that girl!" he shouted to himself, hearing a small echo following. She had no right to be even near his room, let alone in it. He didn't know what to do with her. Almost as if on cue, the common room door swung open to reveal Hermione. As soon as she saw Draco, her face dropped. For a moment, she considered turning around and leaving, or keeping her head down and walking to her room.

"Speak of the devil," he muttered to himself.

She had no idea what he said, but just his mere presence drove her wild. She couldn't just sit there and deal with the fact that he hit her, she was too angry to do that.

"What was that, Malfoy?" she asked bitterly. He was taken aback for a few moments, not expecting her to say anything to him.

"Don't worry about it, Granger," he replied smoothly. "Why are you here so early? Came to snoop around in my room some more?" His voice dripped of venom, and it frightened her a bit.

"Don't be silly," she told him, her voice low and growling. "I wouldn't want to risk being struck again." Her response was harsh. Again, he was taken aback… so much so, that he couldn't respond. She was playing the guilty card.

Finally, he replied, "Just don't go through my stuff."

"Now that I know the consequences, I'm positive I won't be anywhere near your room," she replied icily before she left him in shock on the couch. She huffed out of the common room and decided to get going to Potions. No harm in being early.

However, Draco wasn't so sure about class at the moment. There were only two days until Christmas break, which meant he would be going home again. He groaned at the thought, and decided against going to class. Just thinking about going back to that wretched mansion made him want to throw up.

Plus, what she had just said greatly perturbed him. One part of him was rather shocked that she was actually retaliating. He had expected her to shy away from him and just avoid him, but it seemed as though she had no problem telling him how she felt. He would never dare stand up to his father like that.

For a second, he felt tears collect in their ducts. Grumbling, he blinked furiously, trying to make them disappear. "Never let anyone see you defenseless, even yourself," his father would tell him. As much as he detested the man, the saying was subconsciously his motto.

But now was the time that he felt more vulnerable than ever. Hermione was on the verge to finding out his secret, if she was that smart. But of course she was smart enough, after all, she could figure out practically any problem given to her. He gulped in frustration, hoping that she didn't read very much of the journal.

The day passed by slowly for both Draco and Hermione. Their minds were both somewhere else entirely. Draco had spent the day sitting in the common room, thinking about his trip tomorrow. Just the thought of it sent a chill up his spine and an ache in his stomach. Fitfully, he grabbed a book off the bookshelf and thumbed through it, trying to find something to catch his attention.

Hermione, on the other hand, was thinking about that diary. She wanted to know more, despite telling Draco she would go nowhere near his room. But she was almost positive that he would be going back to the Malfoy Manor for Christmas, so maybe she would take a quick look…

Later that night, she headed back to her room from the Great Hall. Cautiously, Hermione entered the common room disheveled and exhausted. The only thing she looked forward to was her soft bed and comfy pajamas. She passed by Draco, still motionless in the common room, in the same spot he was. He sneered, but she looked away. Nothing, not even an argument with Draco, could stop her from flopping onto her bed and catching some sleep.

The next morning was a dull one. The usual welcoming sun was hidden behind a blanket of dark gray clouds that cast a shadow over the castle. Light snow drifted from them calmly and quietly. One look out the window, and Draco knew it was going to be a dreadful day.

Quickly, he grabbed his small suitcase filled with clothes and made his way out of his dormitory. It was about 7:30 AM, he was sure that Hermione would not be awake yet. Why would she be?

As soon as his door clicked, another one opened. She emerged, drained and rumpled with a large towel and some clothes in her arms. Yawning, she looked at Draco and cocked her head to the side, her hand just barely touching the knob to the bathroom.

"Are you leaving?" she croaked, looking down at his small suitcase.

"Yeah…" he replied regretfully, looking down at his feet. In seconds, his hard face returned, and he looked at her very, very sternly. "Mind your own business while I'm gone." His voice came out small, but threatening. She nodded slightly while watching him disappear out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Finally, he was gone.

Sighing to herself, she pushed open the door to the shower. It would feel good to be away from him for a while.

Draco had made it all the way to the train station before he stopped and took a breather. He looked up at the train and pictured what his whole Christmas break would be like… yelling, locking himself in his room, staring at that empty dinner table chair… he gulped.

"Last call for the 8:30 trip!" the conductor called. He stuffed his shaking hands in his pockets and wondered what his father would do if Draco never showed up.

* * *

><p>As soon as Hermione stepped out of the shower, she whipped her hair up in a towel and threw on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. As much as she would have loved to go home for the holidays, her parents were never too big on the whole "Christmas" thing. So she was heading to the Burrow with Ron, Ginny and Harry. Her parents insisted on it.<p>

Thankfully, they weren't heading out until the next day, so Hermione had loads of time to pack and laze around without having to deal with Draco popping up behind every corner, sneering at her. But still, she felt a small tugging in her stomach. Draco's door was practically beckoning her towards it.

After about an hour of reading, she finally slammed the book down on the shined, wood table and headed towards his door. Cautiously, she grasped the handle and twisted it a tiny bit.

"Ah," she said aloud as she heard a teeny _click _from the knob. Of course it was locked. She laughed at herself for even thinking about snooping as she backed away and went back to her usual spot. Her suspicion continued to prod her, though.

_It was probably nothing_, she thought to herself. _Maybe he wrote something rather personal in the journal and later decided to scribble over it._. But still… it was so vehemently scratched out that one could see the quill marks for more than ten pages after that entry.

"What made him so angry?" she said to herself, setting a bookmark in the spine. Without thinking, she stood and stared at the door, wondering how securely he had locked the door. Cautiously, she slipped into her room and grabbed her wand off the bureau. Tip-toeing down the hallway, she just barely touched the tip of her wand on the knob.

"_Alohamora_," she whispered. A sharp _click _sounded, and she happily opened door. He must have been pretty distracted this morning, to leave his precious room so lazily guarded. Closing the door deftly behind her, she scoured the room for the journal, while making sure not to touch a thing. Who knew what cursed items he hid in here. Again, she grasped her wand and said, "_Accio journal_."

The gold-paged journal came flying out from under the bed. She snorted a little to herself, unsure of why she didn't think to look under there. Scrambling, she opened up to the page with the scribbles.

A chill shot up her spine, the memories of the last time she had see this journal flooded back into her head. The look on Draco's face, the beet red color of his skin. She shuddered, but continued nonetheless. The next page was also scratched out. But there were a few words that she could manage to make out.

"…_afraid. … not usually … fearful person... Nothing… that's what … …. everyone to see… But …. ….hit close to home…... …..s the time you realize ….. is cruel…. realize … there …. always be bad. When you realize everything changes."  
><em>

The rest of the page was filled with more scribbles. She turned more pages, seeing if there was any other content in the diary. There was nothing. Flipping back to that page, she studied the words hard. _Everything changes? _What could that mean?

Just from looking at the jagged strain in his quill strokes, Hermione could clearly tell he was in agony when he wrote this. Although she could only see a few words, they shook her a little bit. Goosebumps rolled up her arms as she slid the book back under the bed. Observing the room, she looked to see if she could find anything else… but the room was spotless. Just like before, except for a sock lying on the bed. She didn't neglect to notice that the picture frame of his family was nowhere to be found.

It wasn't a complete failed attempt. Although she had no idea what any of it meant yet. But seeing as how there was nothing left to investigate, she left his room and made her way back to the common room to pick up where she left off on her book. At least it felt nice being alone, she thought.

"No welcome back party, hm?" a voice snarled from the door just a few moments later. Hermione almost jumped off the couch, the book fell from her hands to her lap. There stood Draco, his suitcase in hand and infamous sneer on his face. His black winter coat had speckles of snow on it, and his usual pale nose was dotted bright red.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, voice coated in disbelief. She was looking forward to at least one day without him. That plan sure did fail.

"Not happy to see me, eh?" he replied, with a smirk. No, no, that wasn't a smirk. Was that a… smile? Hermione stared at him in confusion, for just an hour before he was storming out the door after warning her not to look at his things. Airily, he continued, "Father canceled. Some sort of meeting, he said."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. That didn't sound right.

"Oh really? What kind of meeting?" she asked.

"How in the hell am I supposed to know, Granger? Mind your own damn business," he growled, returning to his usual self. But something was off. He didn't seem as grumpy as before. Sighing, he plopped onto a nearby chair. Why did he always have to do that while she was reading? It was impossible for her concentrate with him in the room, let alone when he was _staring _at her.

"You never stop reading, do you?" he ridiculed.

"Not if you keep interrupting me," came her simple reply. Draco 'hmph'ed and crossed his arms like a child. Hermione just merely laughed to herself and tried again to concentrate on the sentence before her. Draco sat still, staring off into space. She wondered why he didn't just go into his room if he wasn't doing anything important, but she decided not to worry about it. Maybe, he secretly wanted company. _No_, she thought to herself. _What a ridiculous notion_.

She had nearly finished the fifteenth chapter when a sleek, gray owl swooped onto the snowy sill of a window across the room. Both Draco and Hermione looked up, she from her book and he from his nap. Hermione almost stood to retrieve the note but she saw Draco shoot up from his chair and warily make his way to the owl. She watched him carefully, noticing the stiffness of his once composed posture.

He carefully untied the note from the owl and watched it fly away. He looked over at Hermione, who pretended to read, but when he turned around had her full attention on him.

Draco read the note carefully. The familiar knot in his stomach tightened, he almost felt like rushing to the bathroom.

_Son,  
>It has come to my attention that you did not board the scheduled train. The next one arrives at 1:30, and I expect you to be on it. Tardiness is unacceptable.<em>

Draco clutched onto his stomach. He knew there would be consequences for skipping that train, but everything inside him told him not to go. He just couldn't be in that house again. He could feel the color drip from his face as the bile rose in his throat.

"Malfoy?" Hermione's voice cut the silence. He looked over at her, face etched with worry. He swallowed hard and glared at her.

"What do you want?" His voice sounded like he was trying to sound foul, but it was miserably unsuccessful.

"Nothing, never mind," she grumbled, looking back down on her book. She knew there was no way to get any information out of him now, not after getting caught looking through his things before. Stillness filled the room once more, but Draco stayed where he was, seemingly reading the note over and over again. Hermione was itching to find out what it was.

"Granger," he finally said, voice cracked. And he stared at her with pleading eyes, feeling the lump in his throat grow by an inch. She looked up at him, willing him to go on. "I... I'm afraid."

**A/N: Sorry for the late update. I hope this is a good chapter; I spent a decently long time on it! I know it was a bit slow, but the next chapter won't be, I promise. Let's just say we're going to get to see Lucius in action again. Let me know what you thought!**


End file.
